


All's Fair in Love and Cake

by Kirathaune



Category: Saiyuki, Saiyuki Ibun
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: 7thnight_smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirathaune/pseuds/Kirathaune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jouan is determined to win the Pastry Triple Crown Challenge, and he is equally determined to NOT be attracted to to the silly blond who is his main competitor. Tensions and attractions run high when the frosting begins to fly!</p>
            </blockquote>





	All's Fair in Love and Cake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [7veilsphaedra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/7veilsphaedra/gifts).



> Written for the [**7thnight_smut**](http://7thnight-smut.dreamwidth.org/) AU gift!fic exchange. Since we don't know very much about the Ibun characters yet, I have kept their names intact.

The letter lay on the stainless steel prep table in the resort's pastry kitchen; after being read aloud it had been opened, unfolded, and painstakingly pressed flat. Four men clad in chef's whites surrounded the table, silently staring at the rectangle of paper in front of them.

"One hundred thousand dollars?" Ryuzen's voice broke the quiet, and he pushed up his glasses and peered at Jouan. "That's the prize?"

"Yes," the other man replied, "that and six guaranteed episodes of a Foodie Channel series."

Doutaku let out a whistle. "That's a nice chunk of change - and we'd get to be on TV, too!"

"We could start our own bakery with that kind of money, Jouan," Ryuzen said. "We wouldn't have to work here at the resort anymore."

Jouan nodded. "I know," he replied, "and the TV show would give us instant recognizability. That one guy, the King of Cakes-"

"Ace of Cakes," Ryuzen corrected.

"Whatever," Jouan waved an impatient hand at him. "He had to triple his staff to handle all the business he got after he was on the Foodie Channel. Same thing with the Cake King-"

"Cake Boss."

"I don't care!" Jouan snapped. "Boss, King, Tzar; not only did the man's customer base quadruple, it increased tourism in the town where his shop is! We win this and we can go anywhere."

"Maybe you can be the Cake Emperor, Chef," Ganpuku piped up from the far end of the table. "You're bossy like both those guys."

"Shut up." Jouan tapped the letter. "The Foodie Channel's Pastry Triple Crown is three challenges over a weekend, and the teams select one member to compete each day. Doutaku, you are the chocolate man here, so you would be the best person to do the Chocolate Conflict. Ryuzen, you're the best with cakes, so you'll take the Cake Confrontation."

"Is there a Bread Battle?" Ganpuku asked hopefully. "Everyone always likes my bread."

"No. You will be be an assistant. I," Jouan pointed to himself with a flourish, "will take on the Sugar Showdown. Naturally, I will also oversee the designs and plans for all three challenges."

"How many teams?" asked Ryuzen.

"Just two," Jouan replied. "So Doutaku will be matched with a fellow chocolatier on the first day of the competition. You will compete in making a showcase cake the next day, and on the last day I will go up against another sugar artist."

He picked up the letter. "The timing is perfect, gentlemen; the competition takes place at the same time the resort here is renovating the restaurant - they're making us take our vacations that week anyway, so why not take a chance on this? If we win, we can start our own venture and be done with this place. We definitely stand a good chance - I had to send in photos of all our work when I applied, and they chose us over several thousand contestants! So tell me, are you in?"

"Absolutely," said Ryuzen.

Doutaku nodded. "Damn straight!"

"Sure," said Ganpuku. "I still wish they had a Bread Battle - that would've been fun."

Jouan favored them all with a smile. "Excellent! I'll contact the producer and let them know we accept. They'll be paying our airfare to Las Vegas and we're going to be housed in a suite in the hosting casino. We leave in a month, so start writing ideas down and make your lists of what supplies we'll need to bring."

Doutaku pointed at the wall clock. "The bar's still open - let's all grab a beer to celebrate!"

"You three go - I'm going to start working on a schedule," said Jouan, and he watched the three men leave. They were laughing and clapping each other's backs, and Jouan nodded approvingly at the enthusiasm they displayed. They would make a good team, he decided. They worked well together and, more importantly, no one questioned his authority. Tomorrow he'd graph out some floor layouts and start recording everyone's prep times.

Jouan re-folded the letter and tucked it away in his pocket, and then he shut off the lights and locked up the pastry kitchen.

* * * * *

The letter fluttered in the air, clutched in the hands of a diminutive young man who was being triumphantly tossed about by his two friends. "Not so high!" Genkai squeaked as the ceiling loomed perilously close, but when his long braid hit the plaster with a _thwack_ he laughed.

"We did it! We got in!" Houmei laughed as he caught his friend, and then he lobbed him over to Toudai, who grinned and sent him back toward the ceiling.

"Read it again, that first part," Houmei begged.

"I can't read it while you guys are throwing me around!" Genkai protested as Houmei caught him and sent him flying again. "If you two don't stop soon I'm going to get sick - and I'll make sure I throw up on you, Houmei. Ooof!" Toudai's large hands caught him and settled him on broad shoulders, and Genkai paused to catch his breath before raising the crumpled letter to read the opening paragraph for the fifth time that morning.

"'Dear Chef Houmei,'" he read, "'We are pleased to invite you and your talented colleagues to participate in this year's Foodie Channel Pastry Triple Crown competition. Under-'"

"Talented colleagues!" Houmei interrupted, and he poked the other two men. "That's you!"

Toudai rolled his eyes. "Let him finish, Houmei - you're the one who asked him to re-read it. For the umpteenth time."

"I like hearing it! They think we're talented!"

"They think Genkai and I are talented," Toudai pointed out dryly. "They didn't mention that about you."

Houmei pouted. "You're mean, Momo." He flapped a hand at Genkai. "Keep going."

Genkai didn't bother hiding his grin as he continued, "'Under the watchful eye of a panel of judges comprising members of the world’s pastry-making elite, your team will compete over three days in a whirlwind of gourmet creativity. It's a breathtaking event, where talented chefs pit their culinary skills against one another and the relentless ticking of the clock. But it is also a fabulous human adventure, propelling the world’s best pastry chefs towards stellar success.'"

"Stellar success would be lovely," Houmei said.

"The prize money would be lovely," countered Toudai. "We could get a bigger place with that money. The TV show I could do without."

"You're no fun, Momo. It would be an adventure to have a TV show, right, Genkai?"

Genkai nodded. "Yeah, but it'll be fun just to compete!"

"Exactly!" Houmei raised a hand for Genkai to high-five. "The thrill of competition! Stellar success and prize money is secondary, albeit lovely."

"The prize money is not secondary," Toudai said. "Besides the fact that our landlord raised the rent, we really need a bigger place, Houmei. If you want us to seriously pursue supplying restaurants with desserts we need a lot more room than we have here. And more equipment."

"Yes, Toudai," the other two men agreed dutifully.

Toudai sighed and checked his watch. "Let's head home," he suggested, and he lifted Genkai off his shoulder and set him down to stand on the spotless linoleum floor. "We have what, a month before we do this?" He peered at the calendar on the wall. "We need to make sure we let our customers know we won't be taking orders for that weekend. We should also probably figure out who's going to do what and what we need to bring, too. And _you,_ " he waggled a finger at Houmei, "you're the one who got us into this crazy thing, so you are going to be our Fearless Leader."

"Fearless Leader," Genkai giggled.

"I will lead us to adventure, stellar success and prize money." Houmei held his hand out to Genkai for a low-five.

Genkai slapped the proffered hand. "I want to do chocolate, Fearless Leader. I think Toudai should do the cake one, since he makes the best cakes of the three of us."

"But I wanted to do the cake one," Houmei protested.

Toudai snorted. "You have to carry it to the judging table, Houmei. By yourself."

"Oh. Well then, _you_ can do that one."

Toudai laughed and took the letter from Genkai. "I'll call them tomorrow. Let's go, morning comes early." He watched as Houmei wandered over to his desk to retrieve a sketch book, and when his friend sat in the chair and reached for a pencil Toudai motioned for Genkai to go on ahead. He walked over to the desk. "Houmei?"

"I just want to draw for a little while." The pencil began flying over the paper, where a whimsical sugar sculpture was gradually appearing.

"I don't know why you bother to sketch designs like this; your finished product never looks like it." Toudai ran a finger along a pencilled curve. "It's a good thing our customers always love what they end up with."

Houmei merely smiled and kept drawing.

"Don't stay too late," Toudai warned. "We have three weddings to do tomorrow. And stop calling me Momo - one of these days you're going to slip in front of a customer and then I'll have to kill you." He ruffled Houmei's ash-blond hair.

"Yes, Momo."

* * * * *

"Why'd they make it such a long walk to where we're having the competition?" Houmei complained. He tugged at the large suitcase he'd been half carrying, half dragging down the long main hallway of the casino's conference area. "And why do _we_ have be the ones to take our stuff there? This is heavy!" The suitcase rocked on its tiny wheels and tipped over.

"Stop whining, Houmei," Toudai said, and he bent and straightened out the case. "The casino probably gave them one of their bigger conference rooms. And really, do you want to depend a complete strangers to move your tools and supplies?"

"No," Houmei replied sulkily. "But my feet hurt. Where's Gichou? He can take this - that's what we have him here for. Gichou!"

"Back here!" The fourth member of their group shuffled up, all but invisible behind a fully loaded hand truck. "Wow, look at this space! Look at all the equipment!" Gichou's eyes were alight with excitement. "Thanks a lot, guys, for letting me come and help. This'll look great on my resume!"

Genkai nudged Houmei and pointed at the pile of storage containers on the hand truck. "He's full. You're just going to have to suck it up and carry it."

"I know, I know." Houmei turned to Gichou. "They're allowing us an assistant, and since you work with us during our busy times I figured you were the perfect person to ask." He looked down at the suitcase and sighed. "Toudai, could you-"

"No, I am not carrying it for you, you lazy lump. Here is the Grand Ballroom; over there, through that door - see the cluster of tables with the blue balloons in front of it? That's our station - the spot next to it is for our competitors, they're the Red Station."

"Oooh! Our competitors! I want to go say hi." Houmei picked up the suitcase and strode over to the one of the tables behind the cluster of red balloons.

Genkai laughed at Houmei's sudden agility with the case. "Guess he needed the right motivation."

Toudai rolled his eyes. "Let's go to our station and get this stuff unpacked. We only have a couple of hours for set-up tonight, and we need to be ready to start this mess tomorrow morning. Come on, Gichou."

* * * * *

"Hello!"

Jouan looked up from the container of supplies he'd started to unpack. The sweaty, disheveled figure before him beamed and stuck out a hand.

"I already have people bringing our things here, thank you, I don't require any more assistance." Jouan returned to his task, removing a bank of heat guns and setting them on the table. He heard feet shuffling on the other side of the table and looked up again.

The man had remained standing there, his hand still outstretched and wearing the same idiot grin.

"What is it?" he snapped.

"You're one of the other chefs, aren't you? I'm Houmei. I'm very happy to meet you."

Jouan shook the damp hand with reluctance. "Jouan," he replied, "of _Patisserie_ _du Jouan_." Right now _Patisserie du Jouan_ only existed on paper and in Jouan's head, but no one else needed to know that.

The man's grin widened. "Now that's a fancy name." He flapped a hand to indicate the three other men that were making their way to the Blue Station. "We're not fancy; we're _We Three Sweetery_."

"'We Three,'" Jouan repeated.

"Sweetery," Houmei finished. "It's me and my friends Toudai and Genkai. Just we three." He brushed long ash-blond bangs away from his face and looked around. "Where are your friends?"

"My _team_ ," Jouan corrected, "is bringing our remaining supplies here while I unpack and put everything where I want it to be. I think it's ridiculous that we had to carry our own things here."

"Oh, I totally agree," said Houmei.

Jouan finished organizing the shaping station and move on to unpacking the airbrush equipment. "It's also completely uncalled-for that we are all forced to share that hotel suite. This casino is certainly big enough that each team could have had their own suite."

"But that part will be fun!" Houmei protested. "It'll be like a sleepover - we'll all be able to get to know each other. And it's a four bedroom suite - we won't be too crowded. It's part of the fabulous human adventure the letter talked about!"

Jouan stared at him. _Was this man for real?_ "I could do without that part of the adventure," he said, and then he pointedly looked at his watch. "Now if you don't mind..."

"No, not at all; I should go over and help my friends. I just wanted to say hello and wish you good luck." Houmei extended his hand again.

Jouan gave it a desultory shake. "Good luck to you as well. Not that you'll really need it, because _we_ are going to win."

He watched the man join his friends and listened while they good-naturedly teased him about consorting with the enemy.

Ryuzen, Doutaku and Ganpuku arrived a few minutes later, laden with the balance of their supplies. Jouan supervised the unpacking, and then he had the other men practice moving from one station to another while he observed. After a few re-arrangements he was satisfied with the layout of their work area.

Every now and then he glanced over at the other station. The four men were laughing and joking together as they unpacked and set up their work stations. He wondered who their leader was; certainly not the overeager young man who was fetching and carrying, and Jouan didn't think the little one was in charge either. Now, the big one - and the man was practically a mountain - he was acting leader-like, pointing here and there. The blond, Houmei, seemed to not be taking any of it seriously. But then Jouan watched him walk over to the tall brunet and speak to him, and while the other man rolled his eyes he went and rearranged several of the stations.

Perhaps Houmei really was the leader.

"Excuse me!" He turned around and saw a Foodie Channel representative standing by the two judging tables. "Would all of you please report next door to Canyon Hall? We're going to have a catered orientation session and then we will give you the assignment packets for the first competition tomorrow."

The next two hours were a a blur of introductions, information, rules and surprisingly good food. When they were all escorted to their suite, Jouan immediately claimed one of the rooms for his own. "You three take the adjoining room," he instructed. pointing at the room next to his. "You all have copies of the theme packet - go work on some ideas and sketches, then meet me in my room in an hour. I will look at everyone's submission and decide which one we will use tomorrow, and then we will start planning."

The other three men nodded and went to their room, and before Jouan closed his door he turned and looked over at the members of the Blue Team. Gishou, the assistant, had gone off to bed, and the other three sat together on one of the sofas in the main room of the suite. Houmei was in the middle, a sketchbook in his lap, and while he drew the other two made notes and occasionally leaned close to scribble on the sketchbook with their own pencils. There was no doubt that the three men were equal partners, and when Jouan noticed how close they sat, arms casually draped over each other, he realized that they were also very close friends.

Jouan couldn't imagine being that comfortable with Ryuzen or Doutaku; he liked well them enough, but they were employees, not friends. He wondered, though, what it would be like to be so comfortable them that they could all work closely together on a single idea like these men were.

Houmei made a comment and the three men laughed, and Jouan saw Toudai ruffle Houmei's hair.

He wondered if Houmei's hair was soft.

 _Where the hell did that come from?_

At that moment Houmei looked up and their eyes met. He smiled, and a few fingers lifted off the sketchbook in a quiet greeting. The other two, sensing his distraction, glanced at Jouan, and then Toudai tugged on Houmei's short ponytail to bring his attention back to their sketch.

Jouan hastily shut the door and went to retrieve his own drawing pad.

* * * * *

Eight hours to create a chocolate sculpture seems like so much time, Jouan thought as chaos erupted around him in the Red Station. But the time was flying by - only two hours to go - and Doutaku was only halfway finished the chocolate representation of Dali's _The Persistence of Memory_.

"Who the hell came up with this ludicrous theme?" Jouan groused while he stirred chocolate. "Time After Time'. It's absurd. And you're taking too long, Doutaku." He checked the temperature with a laser thermometer. _Just right_. While he adjusted the heat to maintain the chocolate's temper, Jouan reflected that he was grateful that all the television cameras were on stationery mounts that were controlled remotely; he couldn't imagine having to deal with cameramen bumbling about in his station. Ganpuku bumbling around was enough.

"I wish you would've let me do my Big Ben clock tower idea, boss," Doutaku said as he waved a heat gun back and forth over a slowly drooping chocolate clock. "I'm having trouble with the support wire inside the dead branch - the clock that's supposed to hang over it is too heavy. I can't go any faster - the box that the clock and branch sit on needs a perfectly clean seam; I can't cover it with a decoration."

"You're doing fine with this; Big Ben would have been too simplistic," Jouan said as he scrutinized the branch support armature, which was a couple of twisted coat hangers. "Here - I'll re-do this and make it longer, we'll bend it into a l-shape and then fill the whole box with chocolate. You're strong enough to handle the extra weight. This is a very artistic interpretation of the theme, and the spinning clock hands will give us the 'mechanical' element they are requiring."

He glanced over at the Blue Station and smirked. Genkai was working on a cuckoo clock, and while Jouan admired the young man's use of white, milk and dark chocolate in creating an Alpine chalet, the whole structure wasn't even two feet high.

But then again, Genkai was barely four foot tall, so it was probably a smart move on his part to make something small. But a cuckoo clock! Jouan imagined that it would include a working clock face, at the very least; he wondered if they were going to attempt to have any other moving parts.

"Hey, Doutaku," the tiny man called over, "Do you have an extra crank and slider box that I can borrow?" "Yeah, I've got one," Doutaku replied. "Ganpuku, go get it - it's in the tub labeled 'mechanical'."

"Thanks! I'll send Houmei over for it."

Jouan listened to the exchange in disbelief, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two men. "You are _loaning_ him a piece of our equipment?" he hissed. "Are you insane?"

"He loaned me an extra clock face this morning, boss. If he hadn't, one of your clocks would have just had painted hands."

"Oh." Jouan certainly didn't want painted clock hands.

"Hello, Jouan." Suddenly Houmei was standing next to him, grinning. "Isn't this exciting? Your man Doutaku came up with a very nice design. I've seen that painting done with sugar before, but not with chocolate."

"It's _my_ design," Jouan snapped, and then he belatedly realized he had been complimented. "Thank you." He didn't understand how the man could be so carefree with less than two hours left to go.

"Here ya go!" Ganpuku trotted up and handed the small gearbox to Houmei. "I wrote "Dou" on the side so ya know which one is his."

"Thanks," said Houmei, and then he looked back over at Jouan. "Thank you, Jouan, for allowing us to use this." He smiled again, the same soft smile that he had given Jouan the night before, and Jouan felt something tighten inside him.

He shoved the unwanted sensation aside, muttering, "You're welcome," as he returned to his task.

 _You are not going to be attracted to a competitor,_ he told himself furiously. _Especially one as ridiculous as Houmei._

 __Fortunately he was soon able to forget about attraction and soft smiles as the clock ticked relentlessly down. The last hour was insanity; assembly and touch-up and just not enough time. Jouan refused to look over at the Blue Station, but he could hear the same sounds of chaos coming from them as well.

Doutaku set the final piece of chocolate on the sculpture and stood back. They were done.

The buzzer blared.

"TIME IS UP," boomed the announcer's voice over the loudspeaker. "RED TEAM, PLEASE TRANSFER YOUR WORK TO THE JUDGING TABLE. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE."

Doutaku gave Jouan a nervous look, and then he picked up the wooden base that the sculpture rested on. "Omigod," he gasped, "it's really heavy."

"Don't you drop it!" Jouan hissed. "Keep moving!" He fought the urge to bite his nails as he watched Doutaku struggle with the heavy piece. They were definitely paying the price for the added stability.

The twelve feet between the work table and the Red judging table seemed like twelve miles, but soon enough Doutaku arrived successfully with his burden. He stood next to his work and awaited the judges.

Jouan's heart raced as the judges walked around and inspected the sculpture. Doutaku had followed his instruction to the letter, and Jouan was pleased with the final piece. A boxy shelf rested on a surreal, desert-like landscape, and on that shelf there was a closed pocket watch, a dead branch and a drooping watch face. Another watch sagged over the dead branch and yet another slumped over a strange, distorted face. The watch hands on all the timepieces spun in different directions.

The judges were asking Doutaku questions, but Jouan couldn't make out what they were saying. He hoped Doutaku was answering them properly; earlier he'd had to explain who Salvador Dali was, as well as what the painting was all about. The men were nodding and smiling - especially Judge Soujin - so that was a positive thing.

The three men stepped away and started to make their way over to the Blue Team's judging table.

The announcer raised the microphone to his lips. "BLUE TEAM, PLEASE TRANSFER YOUR WORK TO THE JUDGING TABLE. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE."

Over at the Blue Station Houmei was rubbing Genkai's shoulders. "You can do it, Genkai. Slow and easy." He gave him an encouraging pat, then pushed him gently toward the work table.

Genkai took a deep breath, and then he walked around to the front of the table, squared his tiny shoulders, and lifted the sculpture-laden board off the table. Grunts and puffs of breath were heard as Genkai carefully traversed the twelve feet toward the judging table. Fortunately, the table had been set to the same height ratio as Doutaku and his table, so Genkai was not disadvantaged by his lack of stature. Face red from the effort, Genkai slid the board on the table mere seconds before the buzzer sounded.

The judges surrounded the table and gave their attention to the cuckoo clock. It was a replica of a Black Forest clock, an ornate Alpine chalet surrounded by pine trees. It was exquisitely wrought - Genkai had painstakingly blended the milk and dark chocolate to simulate woodgrain, and had used white chocolate for the stuccoed exterior. Following Genkai's instruction, Judge Soujin reached out and moved the clock's minute hand to twelve.

There was a burst of motion. A little water wheel began to spin around while a tiny chocolate man moved back and forth with an even tinier chocolate dog, while a trio of chocolate dancers slowly spun around on a balcony about the clock and a brightly painted chocolate bird darted out of a small door at the top of the chalet.

The judges applauded.

Jouan knew he was doomed.

* * * * *

Jouan leaned against the balcony railing and looked out over the city while he sipped from a glass of red wine. He had almost killed the bottle, and was finally starting to feel relaxed.

Genkai had won. Jouan really couldn't begrudge the young man his win, for it had been stellar chocolate work. He'd had a chance to look at it before the casino people had taken both pieces away to display in the main lobby, and he had to admit his team had been fairly beaten.

Both teams had cleaned up their stations, received the next day's assignment and returned to their shared suite. Everyone then promptly ordered room service, ate ravenously and holed up in their rooms to work on designs.

Jouan was taking a break right now; he had decided to let his team brainstorm for a bit without him. Doutaku's uncertainty with the Dali sculpture kept nagging at him, and not for the first time that evening Jouan wondered if he had undermined his teammate by insisting on using his own design. It had been more than obvious that Genkai was in charge earlier in the afternoon - Houmei and Toudai had done nothing but whatever task the young man had assigned.

He shuddered; he couldn't imagine giving control up like that. Jouan poured the last of the wine into his glass and returned to staring at the Las Vegas Strip, attempting to switch mental gears from chocolate to cake. He couldn't get over how _bright_ Las Vegas was; he'd seen pictures, or course, but the the reality of it was still surprising.

And it was all so _tacky_. It might be a food mecca but Jouan would never want to live and work here.

He heard the glass door slide open behind him, and he turned to see Houmei step onto the balcony. The man was dressed in plaid pajama bottoms and a cotton tank, and he walked up beside Jouan and leaned over the railing, peering beyond its edge.

"Isn't it bright?" Houmei asked, his smile wide and excited like a ten-year-old's. "And so colorful, too! I've never been to Las Vegas."

"I haven't either," Jouan replied. "It's a bit too bright and colorful for my taste."

His inspection of the city done, Houmei turned around and leaned against the balcony railing, resting on his elbows. "It was strange not being home and baking today," he commented. "This is the first time all three of us have been away from the bakery. Fortunately our regulars are excited for us and weren't upset."

Jouan grunted noncommittally.

"Did any of your customers give you a hard time about being away?" Houmei asked.

Jouan shook his head. "No. The resort closed the hotel and restaurant for renovations this week," he replied without thinking.

"Restaurant? I thought you had a patisserie."

 _Damn._ He hadn't meant to let that slip. Jouan heaved a sigh. "Not yet," he admitted. "Right now we all work for a resort hotel in the Poconos, in Pennsylvania; I'm the pastry chef there, and the others are employees who work under me."

Houmei blinked. "Oh," he said. "I worked for a casino once. I didn't like it much; I was always getting in trouble with the executive chef."

Jouan snorted. "I'm not surprised."

"But I bet you get in trouble too," Houmei said with an impish smile. "I saw you this afternoon; you want things a certain way - _your_ way. Executive chefs don't like that."

"No, they don't," Jouan agreed, and he took a long drink of his wine.

Houmei looked at the wineglass, and then at the now-empty bottle. "Is that good wine? I was going to try it."

Jouan ignored the hopeful way the man looked at his glass. "It's very good. A lovely gamay noir from Oregon." He took another sip.

Houmei licked his lips. "I like gamay wine. That's the same as beaujolais, right?"

"Put simply, yes," Jouan sniffed. "But Beaujolais is the region in France where they grow the gamay grape, and most beaujolais wines have grapes grown in alkaline soil. Gamay noir grapes are grown in acidic soil, it tempers the flavor beautifully." A longer sip this time, because Jouan enjoyed the way Houmei was mournfully eyeing the level of wine in his glass.

"Wow! You should have been a wine expert, a... somnolent." Houmei peered at the brilliant ruby liquid dancing in the bottom of the glass. "Can I have a sip?"

" _Sommelier,_ you idiot. I was one for a little while, but there is no creativity in it - they're not _my_ wines, after all. And no, you may not have a sip. You should have gotten the bottle before me." Jouan drained the rest of the glass, swallowed and smirked at Houmei.

Houmei smiled back at him.

The smile took Jouan aback; he had been expecting a pout at the very least. _Why was he smil-_

The rest of the thought flew out of his mind when warm lips covered his. Houmei slid a hand into his hair, cupping the back of his head to pull him closer, and Jouan groaned when he felt Houmei's tongue brush across his lips. Before he realized what he was doing he had opened his mouth and was now being thoroughly tasted.

Houmei's tongue touched his, then lapped along his teeth and the roof of his mouth while his fingers threaded through Jouan's hair and caressed the nape of his neck.

The combination of the fingers massaging his scalp and the slow, silky slide of Houmei's tongue against his relaxed Jouan more than any wine could. He opened his mouth wider to welcome a deeper invasion, and he moaned softly when Houmei accepted the invitation and delved deeper. He vaguely realized he had something in his hand, and he let go of it so he could touch Houmei's hair.

 _So soft.  
_  
The moment was shattered - literally - when Jouan dropped his wineglass. The crash of the glass against the tiled floor of the balcony startled them both, and Jouan rapidly put a good two feet between himself and Houmei.

"Broken glass is a sign of good luck," Houmei commented, and he knelt to pick up the pieces and set them on one of the low tables. "Oh, look! A little wine spilled too - even better for good luck." He rose, dusted his hands on the sides of his pajama pants and casually leaned against the wall.

Jouan smoothed his hair back into order with a trembling hand, and then he carefully asked, "Why did you kiss me?"

"Because I wanted to; you were very kissable a moment ago. And I wanted to taste that wine."

Jouan frowned at the broken remnants of the glass. "But those other two guys - I get the impression that you three are... very close."

Houmei shrugged. "We're friends. Sometimes we're more than friends. Sometimes we're _best_ friends, and sometimes they both want to kill me."

"I can completely understand that," Jouan said with a shaky laugh. "I wanted to kill you several times today, and I barely know you."

There was a flash of white in the growing darkness when Houmei smiled. "I think Toudai probably wants to kill me right now," he admitted. "He's only doing this because Genkai and I wanted to. He would much prefer to quietly make beautiful cakes without anyone ever knowing who he is."

Jouan tried to wrap his mind around that bit of insanity. Create in anonymity? Absurd. "And you?" He was genuinely curious.

Houmei chuckled. "Oh, I like people to know who I am. Stellar success would be lovely, but I also just love making beautiful, delicious things. Don't you?"

A noise from inside the suite interrupted his reply.

"There you are, Houmei." Genkai stepped out onto the balcony, clad in Spider-man pajamas. "Are you coming back to our room soon? Toudai wants to show you the design he's going to do tomorrow." He glanced at the pieces of broken wineglass on the side table and looked up at the two men with a frown. "What happened?"

"It's all right, Jouan just dropped his wineglass, silly man," Houmei replied, his gaze sliding over to meet Jouan's. "It's a shame, it tasted delicious."

Jouan got the distinct impression that Houmei was not talking about the wine.

"I'll be there in a minute, Genkai."

Jouan watched the smaller man depart, and then he returned his attention to Houmei. "You don't even know what your team member is going to do tomorrow?" he asked, incredulous. "You're not going to approve it first?"

"Of course not," Houmei replied. "Toudai does cakes much better than I do, and besides, he is the one that will be competing tomorrow - not me. I wouldn't dream of telling him what to do. Genkai either - that clock was his idea."

"You're a poor leader, then."

A pale shoulder lifted in a shrug. "Probably. I'm only leader because Toudai made me. He said I got them into this mess, so I had to lead it." He tugged at Jouan's shirt and pulled him back into the shadowed corner of the balcony. "I don't want to talk about them right now. I want to kiss you again."

Once more Houmei's mouth was on his, hot and wet. Shoving him up against the side wall, Jouan pulled the elastic band off Houmei's ponytail and slid his hands into soft blond hair while he pushed his tongue into Houmei's mouth. Houmei's lips parted beneath his, and their tongues tangled together while Houmei's arms went around his waist, pulling their bodies close.

Jouan let out a muffled groan when he felt the hardness of an erection pressing against his hip. Jouan was hard too, and his dick wanted nothing more than to frot, to grind, to... _fuck_.

But they were not alone in this suite - someone could come outside on the balcony at any moment.

And this man was The Competition.

Jouan broke off the kiss and took a step back, pressing a hand against the wall for support. He tried to avoid looking at Houmei's mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips. He especially tried to avoid looking at Houmei's tented pajama pants; at least his own erection was hidden by his chef's jacket.

Houmei leaned forward and licked Jouan's bottom lip. "Mmmm, I can still taste the wine." He smiled. "Goodnight, Jouan. Good luck tomorrow."

Jouan struggled to regain his composure. "You're the one who will need the luck," he managed, taking refuge in a taunt. "We're going to beat you."

* * * * *

They were four hours into the Cake Confrontation, and Jouan had begun to allow himself the thought that they might actually win this one. Last night Ryuzen had proposed an excellent interpretation of the "From the Garden" theme - a basket of fresh-picked vegetables - and when Jouan had seen how eager and excited the other three men were over the idea, he decided to use it.

Much of the morning had been prep work, moreso than with the previous day's competition. There had been cakes to mix, bake and cool, as well as fondant to prepare and chill. Now they were using electric knives to carve the cakes into vegetable shapes, which would be covered with colored fondant and decorated with marzipan and sugar paste. Jouan nodded approvingly at the head of 'lettuce' that Doutaku was working on - the sugar paste was proving an excellent choice for the frilly leaves, and he made a mental note to make sure they also used paste for the corn husk.

Lettuce, corn, tomatoes, peas, carrots - what else was there? Jouan peered at Ryuzen's sketch. Ah yes, potatoes. They were going to be dusted in cocoa powder to give them a nice, earthy finish. Ryuzen was working on the basket, hollowing out some of the cake to make room for the 'vegetables'. He had modeled the handle with marzipan, embedding a long curved wire inside the almond paste to give it support.

"Hey, Jouan?" Ryuzen stopped working and pushed up his glasses with a flour-covered finger. "I was thinking... they're tasting this one, aren't they? Part of the judging will be on taste?"

Jouan nodded, keeping his eyes on the 'carrots' he was covering and shaping with fondant. "Yes. A bit unusual, I must say - usually 'showcase' cakes aren't judged on taste." He looked over at Ryuzen, who was biting his lip. "What is it? We used a flavorful pound cake recipe, and the fondant is soft and not too sweet."

"I know, but..."

Jouan rolled his eyes. "Spit it out, man."

"I don't want to use fondant for the basket." Ryuzen pointed at the large rectangle of cake on the main work table. "I know when we were talking about it last night we thought it would be neat to weave strips of fondant to simulate the wicker, but this whole tasting thing is making me want to use buttercream frosting and pipe it instead. My buttercream recipe is my grandmother's, and it's amazing."

Jouan frowned. Ryuzen's frosting _was_ very, very good. And the man was an expert piper. But... "It'll take extra time," he warned.

"I know," the other man replied, "but I think it'll be worth it. I can also pipe 'grass' on the board beneath the basket, and we can use it for the peas as well. It will look just as nice, but it will give us more variety in technique and will taste _so_ much better."

"You've given this a lot of thought," Jouan remarked.

"I've been thinking about it all morning. If I start making the buttercream now, I'll be able to start piping it in about an hour, and we can airbrush it an hour after that. We'll still have two hours for assembly."

"Give me a minute to think about it," Jouan said, and while Ryuzen went back to shaping the basket he pondered the idea. His gaze wandered to the Blue Station, and for a few moments he watched Toudai drape white fondant over a large, ginger-jar shaped cake that was obviously going to be a vase; he had already seen Houmei and Genkai making paste and marzipan flowers. His gaze followed Toudai as the large man went over to his friends and made adjustments to their work - he was definitely in charge over there today. He smiled as he remembered Houmei's words from the night before, and as he watched the three men work together he decided that Toudai was probably the person who actually _ran_ their bakery.

 _Houmei_. His attention was drawn, unwillingly, to the figure who was currently hunched over a sugar paste iris. Blond bangs had been clipped back with pink barrettes, and as Houmei's fingers deftly worked sugar paste into an almost life-like flower his tongue peeked out from between his lips.

Jouan swallowed hard and quickly looked away. His hands were suddenly sticky, and when he glanced down he was dismayed to find that he had smashed the cake 'carrot' that he was holding. With a soft curse he threw out the ruined cake and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands, and then he turned to Ryuzen and said, "Do it."

"Thanks, Jouan. Ganpuku! Get your ass over here!" Ryuzen dropped his knives onto the table and hurried over to the prep table in the back.

Genkai watched the two Red Team members race over to their mixing station, and he gently elbowed Houmei. "There's something going on over there," he said. "It looks like they're changing something."

Houmei looked up from his flower and peered over at Ryuzen and Ganpuku. "Hunh," he said thoughtfully, "it almost looks like they're making frosting." He watched them for a few more moments and then nodded. "Yes, definitely frosting - buttercream, I'd say. A little late in the game to switch to frosting; I wonder what made them change their minds."

"I don't know," Genkai replied, "but I got the impression that it was Ryuzen's idea. It's funny how Jouan was all bossy yesterday and now it looks like he's letting them really be a team."

Houmei smiled. "Maybe we rubbed off on him." He stuck the support wire for the finished flower into a block of styrofoam, got up and wandered over to Toudai. "How are you doing, Mo-Toudai?" He covered his hasty correction by tugging on Toudai's long, thick braid. "This is going to be beautiful. All your cakes are beautiful."

Toudai raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't try and disguise your swooping with flattery," he said, and then he grinned. "I'm good. I'm going to let the fondant settle for a few minutes and then I'll start airbrushing the china design onto the vase." He popped a piece of leftover cake in his mouth. "I have to say, they're going to give us a good run for our money today - that vegetable basket idea is brilliant."

"Yes, and it looks like Jouan is letting them have free rein today."

"I wonder if it had anything to do with the little chat you two had on the balcony last night." Toudai gave him a sideways look.

Two faint splashes of pink appeared on Houmei's cheeks, but he answered seriously, "Maybe. He was shocked that I didn't know or approve what you had planned, and I told him I wouldn't dream of interfering with someone else's idea."

"You interfere with me all the time."

Houmei looked hurt. "No I don't! I might give an opinion, but that's all."

Toudai laughed. "'An opinion', he says. 'Are you _sure_ you want to do it that way, Momo?'" he mimicked in a dead-on impersonation of his friend. "'Wouldn't it look prettier _this_ way?'"

"Hush." Houmei helped himself to a piece of cake. "Perhaps what I said struck a nerve. It was obvious that poor Doutaku had no clue what he was working on yesterday."

Toudai took his airbrush set off an nearby table and set it next to the vase-shaped cake. "Well, if you're all done giving teamwork counseling to the _opposing_ team, could you get back to finishing those flowers for me?"

Houmei gave him a cheeky grin and went back to sit with Genkai.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Jouan and Doutaku sculpted fondant around the 'vegetables' while Ryuzen painstakingly piped a basket weave onto the main cake. Over at the Blue Station, Toudai had finished airbrushing an rose floral pattern on the vase, and was piping delicate scroll designs along the top and bottom edges while Genkai and Houmei carefully dried their floral creations. The large red digital clock counted down relentlessly as Ryuzen carefully filled the basket with the smaller cakes and began to pipe spiky grass on the base. Toudai had transferred the vase to a blue base, and after arranging the sugar and marzipan flowers, he piped a doily in white icing on its surface and lay a single sugar paste bloom next to the vase.

"TIME IS UP!" said the announcer when the buzzer went off. "BLUE TEAM, PLEASE TRANSFER YOUR WORK TO THE JUDGING TABLE. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE."

Toudai accepted high fives from Genkai and Houmei, and then lifted the board with as much ease as if it were a breakfast tray. He walked over to the table and set it down.

The judges walked around the table as their studied Toudai's vase of flowers. The cake vase itself was almost eighteen inches tall, and Toudai had expertly airbrushed an English china pattern on its surface. Soft red and yellow roses bloomed amidst a latticework of deep green leaves, and the vase had been glazed over until it gleamed like real bone china. The wide neck of the vase was covered in a delicate scrollwork of tiny piping, right up to its scalloped edge. Above the vase was an explosion of spring garden flowers; irises, tulips, daffodils, gladiolus and a glorious branch of lilac, all so life-like that Judge Soujin forgot himself and leaned in to sniff at them.

It was time for the tasting. The judges surveyed the piece and pointed out a spot to Toudai that wouldn't spoil the prettiest view, and Toudai cut and served the slice to them along with a tulip. The men sampled both the cake and the flower, and there were nods and smiles all around. Judge Seiran plucked up one of the remaining tulip petals and drew Toudai off to the side to ask some questions.

Jouan watched all this and wondered what the judge was so interested in. Sugar paste flowers in general were more for decoration than anything else, and Jouan had never eaten one that actually tasted _good_. But something in the way the judge was admiring the tulip petal told Jouan that perhaps these flowers _did_ taste good, and if so what Jouan wanted to dismiss as a simple - yet beautiful - decoration was a valid component to the cake. He wondered if Houmei would give him one if he asked.

A knot tightened in his groin at the thought of the lanky blond, and he ruthlessly pushed it away. He had to focus; it was their turn next.

As if he had summoned the man, the announcer lifted his microphone and called out, "RED TEAM, PLEASE TRANSFER YOUR WORK TO THE JUDGING TABLE. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE."

He and Doutaku clapped Ryuzen on the back, and Jouan leaned forward and murmured, "Good luck. You did an excellent job today; I am very, very pleased."

Ryuzen blinked at him. "T-thanks, Jouan." He turned and gripped the unfrosted edges of the base, and then he slowly, carefully made his way over to the judging table.

The judges approached, and they were already smiling at the large 'wicker' basket that sat on a patch of bright green icing grass. A collection of seemingly farm-fresh vegetables were artfully arranged in the basket, as if it were overflowing with bounty. The lettuce leaves were frilly, tomatoes looked ready to slice and the bunch of carrots appeared as if they had just been pulled from the earth. Bright yellow kernels of corn peeked out between delicate layers of corn husk, and grubby potatoes nestled against bright green pea pods.

The basket itself was a masterpiece. Ryuzen had shown himself to be a master piper, using a small rounded tip to make the vertical standards of the basket, then following with a flat notched tip to 'weave' the wavy wicker. The handle was created from twisted and braided marzipan paste, and Ryuzen had expertly airbrushed the entire basket in a warm ochre, the highlights and shadows so convincingly done that the whole piece looked startlingly real.

Judge Seiran pointed to a spot in the back, and Ryuzen cut and served them a piece of the cake along with a few of the fondant pea pods.

Forks went to mouths.

Jouan held his breath.

The judges' eyes slid closed, and each man wore an expression of frosting-induced bliss.

Jouan wanted to grab Ryuzen and kiss him.

* * * * *

"You won!"

Jouan was stowing away the now-clean piping kit under the prep table in the back, and the unexpected greeting made him start and bang his head on the underside of the table. "Ow!" he exclaimed, and he ducked out from under the table to glare at the intruder.

It was Houmei, and he was holding out an exquisitely fashioned daffodil. "A flower to the victor," he said.

Jouan took it and let Houmei help him up, and as he inspected his gift he said, "Our _team_ won today; Ryuzen did an amazing job."

Houmei smiled. "Was it his idea?"

Jouan nodded.

"I thought so. He looked very excited and happy while he worked today." Houmei reached over and broke off a daffodil petal. "Here, taste it." He lifted the piece of sugar paste to Jouan's lips.

As he accepted the candy petal, Houmei's fingers lingered in his mouth. Jouan's tongue flicked against them and the hot knot came back with a vengeance.

Then the sugar began to melt in his mouth, and Jouan stared at Houmei in amazement. It actually tasted good! "I... it's delicious," he said, and he frowned. "It's not supposed to be, though - every sugar paste flower I've ever had tasted like those horrible candy wafers."

Houmei grinned. "Isn't it great? Toudai and I came up with the recipe a couple of years ago; he loves making flower cakes and was mortally offended at the taste of regular sugar paste." He broke off and offered another petal. "Here, have another."

Jouan let him place the second piece in his mouth, and again Houmei's fingers remained for an extra couple of seconds. Jouan could feel himself getting hard, and he closed his eyes briefly while he tried to will away his rapidly growing erection.

"Oooh, is this the buttercream frosting Ryuzen made?"

Eyes snapping open, Jouan turned to see Houmei standing next to the stand mixer.

"I thought the judges were going to need some privacy, with the way they all looked after they ate Ryuzen's cake." Houmei's extended finger was headed toward the mixing bowl.

"Get your finger out of that bowl!" Jouan hurried over and smacked Houmei's hand away from the mixer. In doing so, however, he accidentally hit the switch to 'Max' and the mixer paddle began whirling madly about, flinging frosting all over them and the table.

Jouan quickly shut the mixer off. "Look what you did!" he accused. "This is your fault." He glanced down at himself. There were globs of frosting scattered all over his chef jacket and pants - even his face and hands. There was probably some in his hair too, and for that he would gladly murder Houmei.

Houmei was equally decorated, but he seemed unfazed by it. Instead, he was swiping bits of frosting off his jacket and leisurely licking the sweet confection from his fingers. "Mmmmmm," he hummed appreciatively. "This is really, really good. I see why you won."

Jouan stared at him. "You are completely ridiculous," he said.

"Yes." Houmei stepped closer and licked frosting off of the end of Jouan's nose. "You taste good with frosting." He moved onto Jouan's cheek and then a particularly large splodge on Jouan's temple.

The wet rasp of Houmei's tongue on his skin was setting Jouan's groin on fire. "Stop that!" he hissed. "What if someone is still around?"

"No one is around," Houmei replied calmly, and he licked a spot off Jouan's collar, flicking his tongue against the skin of Jouan's neck. "If you're worried, come down here." He sat down on the floor and yanked Jouan down with him.

"What the hell-" Jouan sputtered as he landed in a heap next to Houmei.

Houmei promptly pushed him on his back, leaned over and kissed him.

Jouan tasted frosting when Houmei's tongue slid against his, delving deeply into his mouth, and he groaned when Houmei's fingers fumbled with the buttons of his jacket and pushed aside the jacket panels. Jouan shivered as cool air hit his bare chest.

Houmei broke off the kiss and looked up at the table. "Forgot this," he said, and he reached up with one hand and removed the mixing bowl. He set it down next to Jouan, and then he scooped out a dollop of frosting with his finger and smeared it on Jouan's nipple. His mouth followed close behind to lick it off, his tongue lapping at the rapidly hardening nub.

Pleasure shot through Jouan's body, straight down to his dick. "Houmei," Jouan gasped. He tugged at Houmei's ponytail, forcing the other man to raise his head and look at him. "Someone could... walk by," he managed.

Houmei lifted the table cover of the table that was behind him and peered under it, and then he grinned and said, "We'll go under here, then - no one will see us." He scooted under the table, pulled Jouan in with him, then reached out and grabbed the frosting bowl.

The table cover hem fell back into place, and they were bathed in shadowy red light.

Houmei's hands were on him again, pushing aside the jacket flaps once more. Frosting was applied to his nipple again, and this time Jouan offered no protest. He freed Houmei's hair and threaded his fingers through the soft locks while Houmei licked and sucked the sugar off his skin, moaning when Houmei's teeth grazed the sensitive flesh.

Another dollop, this time to his right nipple. Houmei's mouth was descending when he stopped and peered at Jouan's chest. "You have a tattoo."

"Yes."

"A rose tattoo." Houmei traced its outline with his tongue.

"Y-yes."

"How surprising." His mouth came back down, and Jouan hissed in pleasure-pain when Houmei sucked hard on the taut, sticky peak.

Jouan cupped the back of Houmei's head, encouraging him to linger. "Mmm, that feels wonderful." He was achingly hard now, and he felt an equally hard bulge pressing against his thigh.

Houmei continued his attentions, and his hand trailed down to Jouan's belly to brush his hand over Jouan's erection.

Jouan groaned and bucked up against Houmei's hand.

Houmei shifted onto his knees and tugged at Jouan's pants, working the waistband past Jouan's hips and halfway down his thighs. "Ooooh," he said, "I want to frost your cock and then lick it all off." He dipped his fingers in the bowl and slathered the buttery smooth topping on Jouan's erection, and then he licked his fingers clean.

Jouan gasped at the sensation, and he watched Houmei with dazed wonder. "Y-you're insane."

A wolfish grin flashed in the dim, red-hued light. "Probably," Houmei said, and he bent his head and swiped his tongue along Jouan's length.

A wave of pleasure coursed through Jouan, and he arched his back so hard he bumped his head against the floor. "Oh God, Houmei!"

"Mmmm," was Houmei's only response, and he settled himself between Jouan's legs and returned to his task, lapping up every bit of frosting.

Jouan was vaguely aware of a number of embarrassing noises escaping his lips, but he didn't care. The only thing he cared about right now was Houmei's tongue, and what that wicked tongue was doing to him. Jouan moaned when his cock was engulfed in the moist heat of Houmei's mouth, and his hips moved of their own volition while Houmei hungrily devoured him. He stroked Houmei's hair, enjoying the feel of the silken strands as they slipped through his fingers. The aching heat inside him was building, expanding, blazing, and Jouan couldn't stop saying Houmei's name. It became part of his moans, it became a chant, and it was on his lips when he cried out and surrendered to his orgasm.

In a haze of pleasure Jouan felt Houmei release him, and then wet, sticky kisses were pressed against his skin while Houmei's mouth blazed a trail up his abdomen and over his chest to lick and nip at his throat. There were more nips along his jaw, and then Houmei bit down on his earlobe while he rocked against Jouan's hip, hard and insistent. Jouan reached between their bodies, slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Houmei's pants and grasped the generous erection he found there. He began to pull and stroke.

"Oh, yes," Houmei panted hotly against his ear. "Just like that. Oh, yes, Jouan." While he bucked against Jouan's hand Houmei bent his head and took Jouan's mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue pushed deeply into Jouan's mouth, matching the rhythm of his cock thrusting into Jouan's encircling fingers.

Jouan sucked on Houmei's tongue, tasting an intoxicating mix of sugar and the bitter tang of his own release while he reveled in the long, low moan that echoed into his mouth when Houmei reached his own climax. Jouan released him, and they lay together on the floor and exchanged more languid kisses, their tongues lazily delving and exploring.

Slowly, reluctantly, Houmei broke their kiss. "You taste even better than the frosting," he murmured, licking a stray bit of sugar off Jouan's chin. "But the frosting was a lot of fun. Next time I want to dip your cock in chocolate." He grinned.

Jouan shoved him off and sat up. "You _are_ insane - I am not sticking my dick into melted chocolate," he protested, and he tried to push aside the incredibly sexy image that rose in his mind at Houmei's words.

Houmei laughed. "We can use the easy-melt kind." He scooted out from under the table to fetch a couple of dish towels, and he lifted the table cover to toss one to Jouan. "It's you and me tomorrow, isn't it?" Houmei asked while he cleaned himself off.

"Yes," Jouan replied while he did the same and pulled his pants back up.

"I'm glad."

Jouan began to button up his jacket. "I am too," he said, and he crawled out from under the table and sat facing each Houmei. "Your friends are immensely talented, but you shall be a worthy opponent. I'll beat you, of course."

"Of course. I'll still wish you luck though." Houmei leaned over and kissed him. Their tongues tangled briefly and then Houmei pulled back after nipping Jouan's lower lip. "I'm very good."

Yes, you are," Jouan murmured. _In more ways than one,_ he thought, and he grabbed the front of Houmei's jacket to pull him close for a slower, deeper kiss.

"We'd better get back," Houmei whispered against his lips, "They'll wonder where we are, and you're making me hard again."

Jouan released him with a groan. Houmei was right; not only would their absence be noticed soon, but they really didn't have time for this right now - they needed to get back to the suite and work on their designs for tomorrow. He stood and straightened his outfit, then when he had made sure no one else was around he helped Houmei to his feet.

"Oh!" Houmei exclaimed. "There's still frosting all over the prep table!" They worked quickly to clean up the mess. "Jouan," Houmei asked, "Would you trade me the frosting recipe for the sugar paste recipe?"

Jouan wanted nothing more than to get his hands on that recipe, but for now he had to shrug in reply. "It's not mine to give - it's Ryuzen's recipe. If he agrees, then we can absolutely exchange them. I think he will, he was in awe of those flowers - he'll be shocked to find out about how good they taste." He reached over and brushed a fingertip over the half-eaten daffodil.

"I'll get one for him to try, then!" Houmei hurried back over to the Blue Station and picked up a leftover tulip. "Bring some of the frosting for Toudai to taste, I know he'll want to try it."

Jouan filled a small plastic bag with some frosting, and then he put the bowl in the refrigerator to clean up tomorrow.

After a quick stop at the restroom they made their way back to the suite, and as he walked alongside Houmei Jouan's mind was whirling. Less than fifteen minutes ago they had been pleasuring each other under one of his tables, and Jouan couldn't help remembering the feel of Houmei's mouth licking him, sucking him, swallowing his spend. And tomorrow they would compete against each other.

That excited him too.

They reached their floor, and when they passed by the vending machine room Jouan pulled Houmei into a tiny alcove next to the ice machine. Their mouths met, eager and desperate, while hands tangled in hair and hips rocked together.

"Chocolate covered cock," Houmei whispered against Jouan's jaw, and he pressed a hand against the front of Jouan's pants. He gave the erection he found a squeeze. "Maybe caramel."

"Stop it, you idiot." He slapped Houmei's hand away and gave him one last kiss. "Let's go."

* * * * *

 _Something wasn't right._

The feeling had been nagging at Jouan for the last hour, and it was really beginning to piss him off.

It was an uncalled-for feeling, because the day had been going very well. Jouan had spent the last five hours creating a toy box overflowing with toys, a piece he felt was a creative, worthy interpretation of the theme 'Child-like Wonder'. He was filling the box with cars, animals, Legos, action figures and other toys, each piece carefully crafted from pulled and blown sugar.

It was bright and colorful, and done with masterful skill - easily one of his best sugar works.

And somehow, it wasn't enough.

Jouan stared at the half-finished work in front of him. It was beautifully done with a perfect execution of technique... and it had absolutely no feeling to it at all, wonder or otherwise.

His gaze was drawn to the sugar boy who was emerging beneath Houmei's skilled fingers. One hand was still empty, but the other clutched a cone of cotton candy and a teddy bear, and his feet were captured in mid-skip. Jouan could almost feel the 'boy's' giddiness, and he could already see the story of a day of fun at a carnival.

He looked back at his lifeless toy box, the equally lifeless toys.

 _Lifeless._ That was what was wrong.

Was his work always like this? Beautiful, but cold and empty? Jouan stood there, lost in thought. _Child-like wonder_. When was the last time he had felt like that about something?

He had felt wonder with Houmei last night, but it had definitely _not_ been child-like.

No, he needed to go beyond that, back to his childhood. Could he even remember?

 _Thinkthinkthink._

 _Yes.  
_  
Yes, he could remember. And it wasn't about a toy box.

"Jouan? Are you all right?" A light touch on his arm. It was Ryuzen.

Doutaku appeared on his left. "Yeah, man, you look spaced. You okay?"

Jouan shook his head to clear it, then nodded. "I will be. I... I want to start over. I have a better idea."

The other two men exchanged glances. "Ummm, boss?" Doutaku ventured. "You do know that we've only got three hours left?"

"Yes."

"What's the new idea?" Ryuzen asked quietly.

Jouan told them, and they nodded.

"That _is_ a better idea," said Ryuzen. "Let's boil up some sugar!"

Doutaku clapped Jouan on the back. "It's a great idea, boss. We'll make it work!" He lifted the unfinished piece off the table. "I'll get this out of your way. Ganpuku! Bring Jouan a blue base!"

"Bring me a shallow full-sheet pan as well, please," Jouan called. He watched the men; Doutaku was stowing the toy box over on a back table, Ryuzen was already boiling water and measuring sugar, and Ganpuku was darting around, fetching and carrying.

Jouan felt a sudden tightness in his chest. He was jeopardizing the round - the entire competition - by changing his mind, yet these men were supporting his idea and eagerly helping him.

They weren't his employees. They were his team.

His friends.

Jouan took the tray and the new base from Ganpuku, set them down and walked over to give Ryuzen and Doutaku their tasks.

Toudai watched the explosion of activity with great interest. He asked Genkai to babysit his pot of sugar syrup, and then he walked over to Houmei, who was absorbed in creating floppy shoelaces for the boy's sneakers. "Houmei," he murmured, "Jouan is starting over."

Houmei's head jerked up and swiveled around to view the Red Station. "Really! Now that is very interesting."

"What did you do to him?" Toudai nudged him with an elbow. "This is the kind of crap _you_ would pull."

Houmei grinned. Nothing, honest." He glanced back at the abandoned toy box."That was nicely done, but it's empty, you know?"

Toudai snorted. "You did something."

"I did not!" Houmei re-heated a length of white pulled sugar and began to fashion a second set of laces. "Maybe he's learned something watching us. They won yesterday because he let his teammate do his own idea, his own work. That, and the amazing frosting, which was Ryuzen's idea and recipe."

"I'm glad he agreed to trade it - I can't wait to use that on our wedding cakes." Toudai said. He looked at the Red Station thoughtfully. "You may be right. I think Genkai would have won anyway, but they were really hurt by poor Doutaku not knowing what the hell he was working on. Yesterday was all Ryuzen."

Houmei nodded while he criss-crossed thin ribbons of white sugar. "I think he might be realizing technical perfection isn't everything."

"Maybe. I still think you did something." Toudai shrugged and then indicated the sculpture. "What do you want next?"

"Hmmmm." Houmei gave the piece a once-over. "His hair, I think. I'll also need you to get the balloon strings ready. Is that wire we have long enough?"

"Yes, it is. It's nice and stiff too - between that and the extra wire in his arm you'll be fine. Hair coming right up, then!" Toudai poked him once more for good measure and then went back to join Genkai.

"I didn't do anything," Houmei told the sugar boy. "Not really. Well, maybe a little."

He bent down and tied sugar shoelaces.

It didn't escape Jouan's attention that Toudai had been watching them, so he wasn't surprised to see the big man walk over and talk to Houmei. He turned away when Houmei looked their way; he didn't want to get any more distracted than he already was. By the time he glanced over at the Blue Station Toudai was back to coloring sugar syrup and Houmei was finishing the boy's shoes.

"This pot of clear is ready, Jouan." Ryuzen set the pot down on a silicone pad. "You want the white next?"

"Yes," Jouan replied, "but make it a translucent white. Have Doutaku make the brown and black syrups, and he can go ahead and make those components. I want you to make the scarf - you are very good at ribbon candy and I want it to look like that."

"Gotcha."

Jouan had spent his time preparing for that pot of clear sugar syrup; the shallow pan was greased and ready to be poured on, and he had taken a cupful of white coloring powder, moistened it, spread the paste onto a small pan and put it in the oven. When it was dry, he grated the resulting bar of food coloring into a bowl.

He carefully emptied the hot liquid into the pan, pouring with exquisite slowness to avoid bubbles. He stopped when it was almost an inch deep.

Jouan took a deep breath. He'd never actually done this technique; he didn't know if it even _was_ a technique. He knew he had to move fast, though, before the syrup began to cool and set.

He dipped his fingers into the bowl of grated white food coloring and took up a pinch of coarse flakes. He sprinkled them onto the pan.

The tiny bits sank into the syrup, white flecks suspended in the clear sugar. Some of the flakes bloomed, the white expanding in a blurry halo around the original fleck.

Jouan was happy with the result, so he dipped and sprinkled, dipped and sprinkled until the entire pan was speckled with the white flakes. He then applied a large quantity of the flakes to the bottom two inches of the sheet, and began to swirl the color into the sugar, just in that area. When he was done he looked at the sheet and smiled.

 _Perfect_. It was just what he wanted.

"ATTENTION, TEAMS - YOU HAVE TWO HOURS. TWO HOURS REMAINING."

The announcement made Jouan start. Ryuzen brought over the pot of white syrup, and Ganpuku set a freshly heated and oiled marble slab down on the adjacent table. Jouan retrieved his blowing equipment and then carefully poured the syrup onto the slab. After donning his heat-resistant gloves, he began to fold and knead the rapidly cooling mixture. Fold and knead. Fold and knead. The repetitiveness was calming, and while his hands continued on auto-pilot he flicked his gaze over at Houmei.

It was a mistake.

Houmei was blowing a balloon. A shiny transparent red balloon, and he was not using a hand pump like most modern confectioners used. He was blowing it by mouth, and Jouan was mesmerized by the hollows in Houmei's cheeks, as well as the way Houmei's lips closed around the blowing pipe.

Hollowed cheeks that look just like when Houmei had been sucking his cock the evening before.

Lips that had closed over his length, devouring him.

Heat poured into his groin and coiled sinuously.

"Hey, boss!" Doutaku gave him a little shake. "No spacing out." He set a tray with an assortment of sugar shapes on the main worktable, and turned back to Jouan. "The accessory bits are all done - what else can I do?"

Jouan blinked, and then focused on Doutaku. "I..." he looked at the table, "go take that backdrop slab back and get it out of the pan and shined up, then drill some holes in the bottom so we can mount it on the base. Use the clear Plexiglas rods. And then when you're done you can come back here and help me assemble."

"Will do!"

Jouan returned his attention to the mass of pulled sugar. He pinched off a chunk and set the remainder under the heat lamp. He inserted the blowing pipe and reached for the hand pump. There was no way in hell he was going to blow by mouth, he thought while he squeezed the pump and shaped the growing sugar sphere. And there was no way in hell he was going to look at Houmei again, because chef pants would _not_ hide a raging hard-on and he would certainly end up with one if he saw that mouth again.

He concentrated on shaping the sugar, first one sphere, then two, then three. There was some of the mass left over, so he created half a dozen small blown balls. Ryuzen brought a second pot of white and together they poured and shaped it on the base. Jouan created a rounded depression off to one side and then carefully attached the largest of the spheres using a blowtorch. Using a heat gun, he softened the bottom of the second sphere and attached it to the first, and then followed suit with the final of the large spheres. He slowly waved the heat gun over the entire piece, allowing some spots to soften and distort.

"ATTENTION, TEAMS - YOU HAVE ONE HOUR. ONE HOUR REMAINING."

 _Where had that hour gone?_ "Ryuzen," Jouan called, "I'm ready for your scarf."

Ryuzen came over with a mass of red and black striped pulled sugar, and Jouan stood back and let the other man stretch, pull and arrange the colorful sugar on the main sculpture. When he was done, Jouan moved back in and used his torch to affix the various pieces that Doutaku had made, as well as the smaller white spheres.

"ONE HALF HOUR REMAINING."

Doutaku carefully carried the speckled slab over to the front table. After setting it down, he measured and drilled holes in the sugar-covered base and then slowly mounted the slab to stand on its side while Ryuzen ran a torch along the bottom edge to melt the two surfaces together.

Jouan's breath caught when he saw the slab set in its place as the backdrop. It looked stunning - crystal clear, with the white flecks suspended inside.

"FIFTEEN MINUTES REMAINING."

They were almost done! He turned to Ryuzen, and asked, "Do we have that edible iridescent diamond dust here?"

Ryuzen nodded. "I brought all of my cake decorating supplies, just in case." He looked over at the almost finished piece, and drew a sharp breath. "I know what you want to do."

"Good man. Go get it, quick!"

Ryuzen dashed off to retrieve the small container. When he returned Jouan said, "Just on the white, and just a hint," and watched while Ryuzen sparingly applied the decoration.

"TEN MINUTES REMAINING."

"Oh my God, we're done," Doutaku breathed.

"Not yet," Jouan said. "Clean it up, fast!"

"FIVE MINUTES REMAINING."

"Shit! The left branch fell off!"

"Is it broken?"

"No, thank God."

"Then torch it back on! Hurry!"

"TIME IS UP! BOTH TEAMS, PLEASE TRANSFER YOUR WORK TO THE JUDGING TABLES. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE."

Jouan decided to take the 'long way' and lift the piece from behind the table; it was a longer walk, but he would be able to support the high backdrop with his chest. He relaxed his knees and lifted.

He grunted. _Fuck, it was heavy_. He gave up on the idea of strolling gracefully over to the judging table and focused on not dropping the damn thing, taking small, shuffling steps. After what seemed an eternity, he arrived at the table and he slid the piece onto its top.

Now to wait, because the judges were reviewing Houmei's entry first.

Houmei hadn't disappointed; the treat-laden boy was a work of art. The boy had had a successful day at a fair; a blown-sugar teddy bear was shoved under an arm while he clutched a paper-thin cone topped with pink spun sugar. In his other hand was a half-dozen balloons, bright and colorful and seeming to float above him. The boy himself was a wonder of pulled and shaped sugar - clad in a draped t-shirt and shorts, with scrawny arms and legs. An orange balloon was escaping from the bunch, and the boy's head was tilted to watch it fly away, caramel-blond bangs drifting in his eyes. Judge Shou'un was inspecting the boy's floppy, intricately laced sneakers, and Jouan's gut tightened. Shou'un was widely accepted as one of the country's premier sugar artists, and Jouan greatly admired the man.

And now they were headed his way. Jouan stepped back so they could view his showpiece, clasping his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking.

The feature that caught everyone's attention was the stunning backdrop of polished clear poured sugar, over two feet wide and almost as high. Suspended within the inch-thick block was a delicate fall of snow, irregular speckles of white color that perfectly conveyed falling snowflakes. The base had been covered in pulled white sugar, and sitting off to the right was a blown sugar snowman who practically sparkled in the light that shone down on the table. Pulled sugar branches made up his arms, black chunks of molded sugar coal dotted his front and face, and a wiggly carrot of orange sugar made his nose. He was clad in a wide ribbon-sugar scarf, undulating waves of red and black stripe that appeared to be blowing in the wind.

He wasn't a perfect snowman - he had the lumps and bumps that suggested children had made him, and the evidence of a snowball fight lay strewn about the base. A few blown sugar snowballs remained, and they too sparkled where the light touched them.

"Jouan, this is magnificent," said Judge Soujin. He touched one of the blown snowballs and remarked, "I almost expect them to be cold. I like that you didn't make it too perfect; so many people fall into that trap when making sugar snowmen, and this fellow definitely looks like children made him, which is only proper!"

Judge Seiran nodded. "I agree. I especially like that you chose a translucent white for your blown pieces; it really adds to the dream-like quality of this piece. You've also shown a wide range of technique here - blown, pulled, poured, molded - and that scarf is wonderful!"

"Ryuzen made that, Judge," Jouan said. "He always makes our ribbon candy, so he was the perfect person to do it."

Judge Shou'un nose was practically touching the 'snowy' backdrop. "How did you do this?" he demanded.

Jouan explained his improvised technique, and then continued, " I was very pleased with how it turned out - the grated chunks of coloring were just heavy enough to sink into the syrup, but light enough to remain suspended."

"You should be pleased. This is brilliant work, Jouan," the judge replied. "I watched you making that toy box earlier and while it was beautifully done, it doesn't even come close to this piece. I want to meet with you at some point so you can demonstrate this snow backdrop technique to me."

"Thank you, Judge," Jouan murmured, and his heart pounded with excitement. Shou'un thought it was brilliant! He wanted to learn how to do it!

"Well, gentlemen, we have a difficult choice," said Judge Soujin. "Both of these showpieces have been made by master sugar artists, and they both have given us superb interpretations of the theme."

"Both showed a wide range of technique," added Judge Seiran. "Houmei showed us some amazing spun sugar in the cotton candy, but Jouan showed us a brilliant poured sugar in that backdrop."

Soujin smiled. "Looks like you and I are undecided, Seiran. What about you, Shou'un? Have you made a decision? We'll let you break our stalemate."

The man nodded.

Jouan stopped breathing.

"Jouan," Shou'un said.

"JOUAN IS THE WINNER!" bellowed the announcer. "AND WITH TWO WINS, THE RED TEAM TAKES THE PASTRY TRIPLE CROWN!"

Jouan felt hands landing on his back and shoulders, and from far away he heard a trio of voices congratulating him, cheering him while a medal was hung around his neck. His gaze flicked over to the Blue Judging Table, seeking out a pair of soft brown eyes. Houmei was smiling at him, and Jouan could almost feel the warmth in those eyes as they met his. Fingers flicked in greeting, and then Houmei turned to meet his teammates.

"You did it, Jouan!"

"Great job, boss!"

"You won, Jouan, you won!"

He was jostled, and Jouan was suddenly in the here and now. The other three men were laughing and hugging each other, hugging _him_. He stilled them. "No," he replied. " _We_ won. Our _team_ won. I am proud of all of you, and grateful to you as well."

"Even me, Jouan?" Ganpuku piped up.

"Even you, you brat."

The Foodie Channel people were over now, holding a giant check for one hundred thousand dollars made out to _Patisserie du Jouan,_ which Jouan crossed out and changed to _Patisserie Amis_ ), and the next half hour was filled with picture-taking and shaking hands and chatting with the judges.

Technicians began breaking down the set, and everyone turned to the task of packing up their supplies and equipment. While the other three were busy, Jouan made his way over to the remains of the Blue Station. Houmei and his team were already mostly done, and Toudai was in deep conversation with Judge Seiran, who carefully held a sugar paste iris and an index card in his hands.

Jouan walked over to where Houmei was cleaning and packing his sugarwork tools. "Hi," he said.

Houmei looked up and grinned. "Hello. Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Jouan replied. He nodded over at the sugar boy. "I wanted to tell you that piece is wonderful. There's such joy in it."

Houmei's grin widened. "I was ten, coming home from the state fair, and I was carrying everything you see there. That orange balloon came loose, slipped away from the others and floated into the clear blue sky. I stood there, amazed by how beautiful the orange looked against the blue, and thinking that the balloon wouldn't look half as nice against any other color." He tapped a finger against his set of airbrush colors. "It was years later that I actually learned about complementary colors, but that day I had felt how powerful they could be."

He stowed the airbrush equipment in the storage container he was filling and rose from his seat. "I adore your snowman, and that snow backdrop is breathtaking. How did you make it?"

Jouan explained his technique, and then he added, "I was nine, and staying at my grandfather's cabin in upstate New York. It had snowed, and my brother, my cousin and I had made a snowman and had a glorious snowball fight. We were called for supper, so we left our arsenal next to the snowman and went in to eat. When we came back out it was snowing again - but the snow was sparkling like diamonds. It was beautiful, and it had made our lumpy snowman look beautiful too."

"It's funny how we both picked something from our own childhoods," Houmei said. "I'm glad you changed your mind."

"I am too. I don't think I would have won with the toy box."

"Probably not," Houmei agreed. He reached out and touched the gold medal that hung about Jouan's neck. "Look at you, with a shiny gold medal." He ran a finger along its edge.

Jouan's pulse began to race. God, he wanted to be alone with this man.

"Houmei, I-"

"Jouan!" called Doutaku from the rapidly disappearing Red Station. "Let's go grab a celebratory drink before the dinner with the TV people!" Ryuzen and Ganpuku were next to him, waving at Jouan.

"Go join your team," said Houmei, giving the medal a tug.

"My _friends_ ," corrected Jouan.

He was treated to a brilliant smile.

"Yes. _Tes amis_. You won more than the competition, Jouan. Go, join them."

* * * * *

The four men ambled back to the suite, pleasantly buzzed. They still had an hour before the Foodie Channel dinner, which was plenty of time to shower and change. Jouan hoped he would be able to sit next to Houmei during the dinner. With any luck they would be seated close enough to allow for some creative hand-wandering. He fumbled with the room keycard and finally got it open. When he and the others entered, they were surprised to see Toudai, Gishou and Genkai standing in the center of the main room with their bags. Houmei exited one of the bedrooms a few seconds later, lugging a suitcase.

Jouan stared at them. "You're leaving now?" He sought Houmei's gaze. He'd hoped they would have been able to sneak away tonight for a private celebration.

"Yes," Houmei replied while his friends shook hands with Doutaku, Ryuzen and Ganpuku and headed toward the door. "We wanted to get back tonight, even if it's late. We have a very large order due on Tuesday, and we'll have to work on it most of tomorrow."

"Houmei?" Toudai called from the doorway. "We'll meet you in the lobby, don't be too long. Congratulations, Jouan, everyone."

"All right, I'll be there soon."

The door shut, and Doutaku, Ryuzen and Ganpuku disappeared into their room.

Houmei returned his attention to Jouan. "I'm glad you won," he said. "I put up an honest fight, but winning this will let you four chase your dream." He nodded back at the door. "We have our dream already, we just wanted to make it a little bigger." He held out a hand.

Heart pounding, Jouan clasped it and shook it. He didn't want things to end this way.

He didn't want things to _end_.

"It's been an adventure," Houmei said. "And I'm very happy to have met you, Jouan."

Jouan swallowed. How could he convince Houmei to see him again?

Both of Houmei's hands were enclosing his now, and Jouan felt small objects being pressed in his palm. He instinctively closed his fingers around them when Houmei released him.

Jouan opened his hand and glanced down. Nestled in his palm was a foil-wrapped chocolate kiss, a caramel, and a slip of paper bearing a phone number and email address. He looked back up to meet twinkling brown eyes.

"The resort you work at is near Mt. Pocono, right? That's not so far from Baltimore," Houmei said.

"No, not far at all," Jouan agreed. A three hour drive, definitely doable for a passionate weekend rendezvous. Many passionate weekends. Maybe _every_ weekend, if Houmei kept smiling at him that way. Jouan brushed his fingertips across Houmei's lips. "I want you," he said. "Soon." _Now_. "And properly, not under a worktable. This weekend... my place?"

Houmei nodded. "I can come up after we close on Saturday. I'll cook you dinner - I'm a good cook!"

"I'm sure I'm better," Jouan insisted. "I'll cook for _you_."

Houmei pressed against him. "Ooooh. We'll compete. Dinner Deathmatch."

 _Oh, yes._ "And I'll win."

"Of course. But I'll wish you luck anyway." A kiss, a tongue sliding against his, and then Houmei drew back, smiled, and was gone.

Jouan couldn't wait for Saturday.


End file.
